my hair smells like raspberries and blackberries
and rosemary wine.

so many wrecks, the moon has gone of her track.

i am spell-bound, i want to say, "STOP".

but i just watch the backlash,
the very last crash.
it was a smash book poem.
it was the last mangled word.

she forgot, she couldn't remember . . .
she forgot, she couldn't walk.

she forgot, but now she can look back,

and she knows.

she fell before she flew away.

and where have they gone?

i gave birth to the ocean,
so take me back to her.
take me back to her.

i don't know,
but i am the liquid movement.

there are shadows on the shelf.

grandma spider will clean them away,

whisper them away as she wraps them in webs.

the sage wind blows, caught in crescent moon.
she is veiled, she is quiet in the candle light.

my husband stokes the fire and turns my
face towards the sunlight sparkling on the waves.

be warm in your heart, be young in your hope.
we are mortal and we are happy,

so be it and so it is.

and goodbye 2015, my sweet and sad year

all loss, leading up to you
has been but a whisper

sometimes we mourn, and it is okay.

you can be afraid.

i can be afraid.

we have been loved.

we have been loved and it is enough to for a life time.

breathe.

she is far away now.
beyond the poppy fields.

the days are short,
the nights are long.

all of her children,
are little again ~
tow-heads bobbing;
bright round faces.

they run around her,
and she watches them,
her heart fills and overflows.

they are the dreams of heart,
they are the ache in her bones.

their busy feet,
take them away,

small giggles fading away.

she is alone.

she calls after them,


"where did you go?"


"where did you go?"


then she curls into a ball,
and weeps a waterfall
from her broken heart.

and now there are two spiders ~

and they spin and spin and catch flies and live lives,
and they bite, but they do not bite me and I will let no
hand or broom sweep them away.

i took the wrong turn, it is fall and I am falling.

i took the wrong turn, ended up on the scenic road.

the sun is setting, dark clouds loom.

then the lake swims up all around me ~
drinking up the last bit of light.

water, quiet waves that lap in the pink and blue;
the whispered marina dancing with black shapes
and shady hues.

the fishermen are dressed in white, they are about to
call it a day.

and i laugh, i have my lost way.

i would have been a few minutes early,
now i am a few minutes late.

and i am just in time to watch the heron
fly away, and the heron flies away.

so here we are ~ September of 2015.

What a year so far, so breath-taking and so busy ~

This is my first weekend at home, without plans in almost 3 months :)

YAY!!!

Some time to putt around, clean a bit, work in the garden, make breakfast for my family, help Ella with her room at her dad's new house, spend time with husband, hike with my girlfriends and dream a little.

Perfect weekend, perfectly happy life even as storms gather on the horizon ~



Let's celebrate with music and dance and image and word . . .









Had to say goodbye to one of my dearest friends ~ Flynn, forever ~ that's all i can say about it ~

Ah, and here we are summer 2015 ~

so many things, so many things.

a summer of trips to Nebraska, to hold my mom's hand and hug my dad.

white water with the man in love as we hold each other tight in front of the fireplace - small cabin, big mountains.

big waters of the Niangua with my family.

rocking out at The Bottleneck to my daughter's songs.

waterfall hikes with my truest, loveliest ladies.

and more to come

miles to go, my dearest sweetheart, there are miles to go.

Mina Sauk Falls, Taum Sauk Mountain, Missouri

Arkansas River, Royal Gorge, Colorado

Beautiful Manitou Springs

Kansas Thunderhead

the trees hold flowers and promises and bird's wings,

they tell their stories in a series of little rings,
just like me.

just like me . . .

come to me through the antler forest,
i will hold you, i will open the
screen door, to let in the velvet breeze ~
breathy whispers from the sun.

a field of clover, lies in between you
and me.

a blue sky drive, and your bed
will be my bed.

the river is deep, and the manatees come
seeking warmth.

gentle creatures,

they are guileless and forever innocent.

though the scars go deep and
death creeps in around their sweet corners.

i remember my grandfather's muscled arm,
he taught me my letters and simple addition,
the green lady on his forearm, naked and
undulating, sang foreign songs that rolled
off her hibiscus tongue,

she knew of war and
foreboding things,
i did not yet understand ~

when i was too young to treasure the
meaning, my grandparents brought
a garden to my door.

each time i started over ~

no matter where i went,

sage and lamb's ear,
red buds and moon flowers,
irises and cone flowers ~

followed me, filling up my lonely road, band-aids
for my latest mistake ~ my guileless hope that
home was sane and quiet and peaceful, full
of truth and sweet salvation.

those days lay far behind me, all my lost gardens.

my grandparents lay now, side by side.

they don't fight anymore or blame each other
for the sad things that haunted behind their eyes.

it is a cemetery tomorrow,
skeletons dance in their flower crowns,
they confuse the candle light flames.

they whisper to the letters, making
a poem in the shape of disappointed delight.

and in a new home, a field of hope, new and unbroken,
stretches its limestone bones.

i plant my mary and she is dripping
in yellow roses.  i plant cone flowers, sage, moonflowers,
redbuds, lamb's ear and other things . . .

other things ~

i learn how to make a safe home but i
still make lavender tea,
pour steaming water
from the copper kettle.
welcoming home my
favorite ghosts,

they sit in the garden and we
talk of the weather
and of black and white days
and of seeds and water
and the quiet promise of planted things.

spring ~ you bring me back to the essence ~ reflecting pool of life ~

the wick is rising and i have made it through the snow drift and into the daffodil day.

i have been down long roads, i have cried rivers . . . i have clung to the tree as the roaring water tried to tear me away.








i have known dark things, i have been on the inside of the darkest hearts ~








i have learned, that when we give into the river tide and travel to ocean wave.  we are reborn in our tears and in our willingness to cry.  come with me, it is the promised journey, it is the ultimate adventure ~ it is life, as we make it.







and then, you will find a miracle ~ you will feel your heart beat and you will know what that means ~ you will know where you belong, you will find your home.  it is always as close as your very own heart.







only from the honey comb heart, can the universe be explored.







and we are re-made and re-imagined.







So then, as the stars hum, i will say "¡eh, quit your job and run away with me to Santiago" ~~










and on Sunday morning, I will fry thick-cut, apple-smoked bacon and make you  . . .













and then we will love each other, forever, because we won't even care . . . . other than each for the heart of the other.









we will dance into the future, because there will be nothing else left to do.













then we will sleep, exhausted and full of dreaming








then wake








and i will know that i am beautiful and that you are beautiful and that life is frightening, and grand and gorgeous.













and because i just can't help it . . . i am a seriously a serious woman.












then i will feel into the base of my spine, and wish my wings into being and i will turn the stars, arms open and i will go home.











hope you are enjoying the journey into spring, into the center of your heart . . .



life and music and dancing and loving, laughing and crying, because then ~